


i tell him, real

by glitterjemstone



Series: figuring out how to write ronan lynch; a collection of unrelated and small fics [2]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-The Raven King, Pre-Epilogue, Self-Harm, also maybe fluff?, angst is nOT my thing so don't get ur hopes up, but like warning for that it's definitely mentioned, post-trk, supportive boyfriends, uhhhh yeah i dont know what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 02:19:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13261557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterjemstone/pseuds/glitterjemstone
Summary: Ronan reveals a secret, Adam talks to him, and boyfriends learn to communicate better.





	i tell him, real

**Author's Note:**

> hnnnggg i'm iffy on posting this because of how rushed it is, i wrote it in like an hour last night and don't feel like editing. also, in case u didn't read the tags, there is talk of self-harm. it's not graphic or in-depth, but it is certainly what this fic surrounds.

“What the fuck is that?” Adam says sharply, reaching for the edge of Ronan’s shirt. His boyfriend yanks himself away, stumbling off the couch of Monmouth Manufacturing.

“What the fuck is what, Parrish? My shirt?” Ronan Lynch snarls, lifting himself back up to the couch but sitting opposite of Adam rather than leaning into him. He crosses his arms tightly over his chest. “People wear them sometimes. Can’t tell you why.”

Adam Parrish glares. A textbook occupies his hands and various papers filled with cramped notes surround him, but he shuffles them aside and onto either the floor or table without looking. Instead, he looks at the boy in front of him. Ronan Lynch, enigma. Ronan Lynch, softness and sharp edges. Ronan Lynch, who is uncharacteristically avoiding his gaze.

Ronan looks like glass but shatters like porcelain.

“Don’t act like that. I asked you something, Ronan. And you know what I’m asking about,” Adam says. Ronan doesn’t lie.

Ronan sighs, closes his eyes, and lifts the edge of his shirt up. Against the skin of his hip are harsh pink lines crisscrossing. The focus is a patch of raw skin that looks particularly red, with some healing scratches from where the skin has been broken. His skin is a lost desert, a war treaty in disguise. Adam can see where skin was scraped, and can’t look away.

“What. The fuck.” Adam lets the words fall out of his mouth before he even thinks them through. Neither he nor Ronan are good with sensitive topics, better at just asking questions and getting answers, or worse (Adam recalls how his moving above a church came to be), but if there was ever a time to try and change that instinct, it was now.

“If that’s all you’re gonna say, can we go back to your homework now? I almost prefer Ancient History notes to this,” Ronan says, looking disgruntled. He pulls his shirt down.

Rushing, Adam leans over to Ronan, pulling his arm so Ronan is forced to move back to leaning into Adam, stretched across the couch. Adam pulls his knee up beside him and lets his other leg hang off the couch and touch the cold floor.

“Do you want to tell me what that is?” Adam asks, gently as he can, and traces lazy circles on Ronan’s cool, deep skin.

“They’re… scratches,” Ronan replies.

“From what? And don’t say your ridiculous bird did them.” Adam leans his head on Ronan’s, effectively holding Ronan in place.

“They’re from me. Myself, I mean.”

“Why?”

Ronan tries pushing himself off Adam, but Adam doesn’t relent. “Jesus fuck, Parrish, do we need to talk about this?”

“ _Yes, Lynch_ , we do. I’m your fucking boyfriend,” Adam says. Ronan doesn’t speak, but curls himself close to Adam. Adam is reminded of Chainsaw, and the way she curls into people, with her claws in your shoulder or her head nipping around your neck if you held her. He sighs. “Look, I know you didn’t actually try to kill yourself last year, but before I knew that, this is something I worried about: if you ever hurt yourself like this. So can you please just answer me?”

Ronan doesn’t reply for a minute, and then says, “Sometimes I wonder if my father ever wished he’d dreamed me up, if he wanted me to turn out differently; if he could see me now. And then I wonder if I’m not entirely real because he dreamt up my mother. If I’m half a dream and half a sick reality.”

“And?” Adam prompts.

“And this is how I know I’m real. That I’m here, and not a dream object like everything else my father created,” Ronan replies.

“If you were a dream object you would be asleep right now,” Adam tells him softly. He’d be like Aurora was, or the animals that occupied the Barns. “And you’d still hurt if you were from a dream.”

“I know, God, I know,” Ronan says simply.

“If it’s irrational then…” He trails off.

“Why do I do it? You’re one to talk, Parrish,” Ronan scoffs, like his heart isn’t in it. “I’m irrational, Adam, I can pull things out of dreams.”

“You are real, Ronan.” Adam whispers, and he thinks that if he went to church, this is what his prayers would sound like.

“Something about pain, about just seeing the scratches appear, makes me know I’m real, alright?” Ronan says. “It doesn’t have to make sense.”

“I could tell you you’re real,” Adam suggests.

“Sometimes I don’t know if you’re even real.” Ronan hides his face in Adam’s arm, tucks himself into the fabric of his sweater and breathes deeply.

“You didn’t dream me up. I’m just as real as you are, Ronan,” Adam says. “And I’m always gonna be here.” Ronan doesn’t need to respond. Adam just tugs him up, he’s like a ragdoll in his arms, until he’s sitting and presses a kiss against his cheek. He repeats himself for good measure. “I’m always gonna be here.”

Ronan hums into his arm.

“Will you promise me you’re not going to hurt yourself to prove you’re real?” Adam asks. “I’m sure if you asked, Blue would do it for you.”

“I’d like to see the maggot try,” Ronan mumbles.

“Ronan.”

“Yeah, I fucking promise,” He says.

Even though Ronan can’t see it, Adam raises an eyebrow. “Are you lying?”

“I don’t lie, Parrish,” Ronan says. “I thought you, _as my boyfriend_ , would know that by now.” He doesn’t sound angry, though.

“What can I say, Lynch, you’re unpredictable,” Adam says, because he doesn’t have the words to tell Ronan that this means more to him than anything he’s ever asked of Ronan. Adam and violence don’t mix. Adam can’t tell Ronan that he wants to protect him from every bad thing the world has to offer the same way Ronan tries to for him.

“That’s why you love me,” Ronan mutters.

“I do. I really, really do,” Adam says.

They spend the rest of the day like that, though Adam does pull his notes back up to work on them, and Ronan makes fun of every historical figure Adam reads about. They don’t move until Gansey and Blue stumble in, and Henry’s voice can be heard echoing behind them. Then they sit together on the floor as they eat greasy pizza with their friends, and Adam spends the whole meal with his hand on Ronan’s knee, squeezing it each time Ronan glances his way.

**Author's Note:**

> uhhh kudos if you liked it please?? and COMMENTS because this is part of my "how do i write ronan lynch?" series so please tell me how i'm doing. lowkey hate this fic but oh well.


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